Nihil Intret Mali
by Mickey Briann
Summary: Erwin Smith, the man who has it all: looks, money, fame, charming naïvety, nearly anything you can dream up he has or can acquire. His status was gained through years of failed attempts to rise to the top of the modeling industry. Levi Ackerman, the man who could care less: his life has been a series of struggles and almost disgustingly good luck. The two have no chemistry. Almost.


Levi's steely grey eyes followed the current subject of his fascination. Every line, every curve, every shadow was painstakingly clear to see to this man. His index finger pressed down once, twice, three times, four. As the digit rested on the shutter button for the fifth time, he came to a full stop. The shot wasn't right.  
"Can you move to the side?" he barked, the words sounding more like a declaration than a question. The model squeaked an "okay" as she shuffled to the side. "More," Levi demanded, obviously wanting her to be completely out of the shot. She obeyed once more.  
Grey met striking blue as he averted his attention to the male model. To most in this room, he wasn't just "the male model"; he was Erwin Smith, the one every photographer was dying to work with. Levi looked more than unimpressed, though. To him, he was just another snapshot. A perfectly executed snapshot, perhaps. An incredibly attractive snapshot, definitely. But just a snapshot. Nothing more, nothing less.  
Erwin was captivated by the nearly painfully emotionless photographer; he was the best mix of mundane and mysterious. His words were sharp and direct, punctuated by "_tch_"-ing. His movements were fluid and he so gracefully stepped around the two models, not wanting to miss a single chance for the perfect picture. Erwin was sure that the shorter man wasn't always so professional and stiff, but he knew very well that he could be wrong. He ran a hand through his golden hair, ruining the perfectly tousled style that had taken at least half an hour to do but not caring a bit.  
Why should he?  
He didn't see the point in trying to preserve something as trivial as a hairstyle when he was so deep in thought. All he wanted was emotion out of this oh-so-strict photographer. He had heard of Levi Ackerman and his odd demeanor before, but he hadn't been fully prepared for him to give everyone- aside from the models- the cold shoulder for a full two hours before the shoot.  
The only person he had engaged in a real conversation with was his assistant, Hanji Zoe. The two were polar opposites: Levi was cold and calculating while Hanji was loud and generally happy seeming. Whilst Levi had found himself almost doing a lethal looking dance around the models, Hanji stood back with the hair and makeup people, a can of ginger ale in her hand and chatting up a storm. The modeling duo and their photographer could barely make out enough of the conversation to realize that the small congregation in the back of the room was poking fun at Levi's height. Well, Hanji was; the rest were too terrified of the man to so much as laugh aloud.  
The final photograph was taken and most had dispersed but Erwin, Levi, Hanji, and a select few others lingered at and around the set. Levi was- if even possible- shoving photography equipment into a structured black bag in an incredibly careful, nearly delicate manner. Erwin had decided that it was now or never, in plain terms. He strode towards the busied man, attempting to keep his footfalls light. As he made his way across the room he began to have second thoughts: what if Levi truly was cold and cynical at heart? What if he was completely uninterested in any sort of relationships with anyone outside of work? What if Erwin just didn't strike his fancy?  
_ No_**_._**  
Now was not the time for such thoughts. All he needed to do was say hello (goodbye, perhaps? Erwin wasn't sure.) leave the slightest semblance of a good impression, and leave. No harm, no foul. Levi was no doubt a man of extreme tastes and terribly inundating work. He was by all standards intimidating, but for all Erwin knew, he just had a very harsh exterior. If that was the case, Erwin had already sent himself on a mission to break down his walls and get to the man inside. It hadn't seemed to dawn on him that this had been done at least five million times in a million different romantic comedies in nearly every country with a cinematic or literary media.  
When Erwin reached the small circular table that Levi stood in front of, he held out his right hand for a handshake. He had to quietly clear his throat or run the risk of being ignored for another ten minutes. Levi's gunmetal greys peered up through thick black lashes and Erwin just managed to tell him that it was nice to work with him.  
A pale hand reluctantly reached out to meet the tan complexion of the blonde. "You too." The monotone of Levi's voice rang in Erwin's ears.  
Erwin gave a small sincere smile downwards in hopes of a more emotional response. The ends of the shorter man's lips just barely twitched upwards. It wasn't much, but it was something. He also could've very well been laughing at Erwin's naïvety. Erwin released the photographer's hand and simply walked away.  
Levi clenched his hand shut, very soon after realizing that he held something. He held his hand flat in front of his face as to see this mystery item. It was a small slip of paper with a phone number scrawled down in messy handwriting. What a nuisance.


End file.
